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BLAE-BERRIE GARLAND.
Will you go to the highlands, my jewel, with me,
Will you go to the highlands the flocks for to see,
It is health to my jewel to breath the sweet air,
And to pull the blae-berries in tho forest so fair.
To the highlands, my jewel, I’ll not go wi’ thee,
For the road it is long, and the hills they are high,
I love those vallies and sweet corn fields, (yields.
More than all the blae-berries your wild mountains
Our hills are bonny when the heather’s in bloom,
It would chear a fine fancy in the month of June,
To pull the blae-berries and carry them home,
Set them on your table when December comes on.
Out spake her father, that faucy old man,
You might a chosen a mistress among your own clan,
It’s but poor entertainment to our la’land dames,
To promise them berries and blue heather blooms.
Kilt up your green plaidie; walk over yon hill,
For a sight o' your highland face does me much ill,
For I’ll wed my daughter, and spare pennies too,
To whom my heart pleases, and what’s that to you?
My plaid it is broad, it has colours anew,
Goodman, for your kindness, I’ll leave it with you ;
I’ve got a warm cordial keeps the cold from me.
The blythe blinks of love from your daughter's eye.
My flocks they are thin, and my lodging but bare.
And you that has meikle, the mair ye can spare.
Some of your spare pennies with me ye will share,
And ye winna send your lassie o'er the hills bare.
